The Last messages

Message for Mr Reader

Reader had the envelope sitting on his desk since the moment he got home. Every morning he would look at it, wonder if it was time to read it. Every morning with his thumb under the seal, he hesitated before setting it down.

He woke up with a jolt, the feeling of falling pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He lay for a while, staring at the ceiling. When he finally felt like he was able to breathe, he put on his glasses and looked at the time. 1:37 am. With a sigh, he unlocked his phone. The first thing that came up was Tadashi and his old conversations.
He felt a pang of emotions, and a sinking feeling in his chest. As he scrolled down to the later messages, seeing paragraphs upon paragraphs stacked on top of each other, it only got worse. Seeing the sign that says read feels weird, knowing that Writer didnt see it at all, and if he did he wouldn't have responded.
Reader feels lonely in the dark, with only these messages to keep him company. He took a slight glance at the letter, and back at his phone. Quickly, he turns on his flashlight and picks it up. This feels different, right after seeing the messages he sent to Writer. Writer would never get to read those messages, he has the ability to read reader’s last and he’s not taking it.
Holding his breath, he opens the envelope under his phone flashlight. Shakily, he unfolds it.

“Dear Reader”

He exhales slowly. This is for Writer.

“Dear Reader

I hope this letter finds its way to you the way it was meant to. I’ve thought about your letter so much, what I would say, how I would say it, how I could even begin to explain myself. This letter was actually drafted over the course of 7 months. I’ll cut to the chase, I owe you that.
Reader, I’m not going to lie to you here. Your actions hurt me a lot. I met you when you told off some bullies for making fun of my freckles, and I looked up to you and thanked you for that. I was attached to your hip. We grew together, made promises in dark rooms with wide eyes, linking pinkies like we now link bodies and make new, silent, oaths.
I followed you religiously, thinking nothing about my wants and needs when it came to you. Where you went, I would go. What you did, I would do. You were mean to people, so I backed you up. You were mean to me, so I was too. I followed your example, trod on your path, refusing to take my own.
In my head, your word was law. “Shut up Writer,” so I stayed silent. “Leave me alone,” so I did. I did what you asked and more. I was there for you in hard times, like a friend was supposed to do. I think a large part of me hurt because when I was hitting lower lows than ever, you stood on level ground. I’m not blaming you for not helping me, though. I never mentioned anything, so you’re justified in that. I wanted what I gave out to you, to anyone- just a little bit of support. I didn't know it got so bad until one day I realized: I just could care less. At that point, whether someone helped me or not, I would be stuck in my rut until I cared enough to step out.
I began to like my rut, centering routines around zoning out and panic attacks that happened under closed eyes. My work slipping? Fine by me, I could care less. Volleyball getting sloppy? I was never going to pursue a career in it anyway. I couldn't think anymore? What does it matter. I kept trudging down your path, slowly listing into the thorns on the side.
Life was sliding downhill slowly for me, and the more I fell the higher up you seemed. I thought about you more often than not, idolized you more than ever. I’m not saying I regret it. You gave me something to hold onto, and you were still the best thing in my life.
Whats worse? I loved you. I loved you so god damn much, I felt it with every bone in my being. And then you introduced a new thing into my routine- sneaking out to fuck each other. I don't remember how it started. Its so hazy in my mind, I couldn't tell you who brought it up or why it even did. But I remember that we locked ourselves in lustful passion, losing ourselves to each other. I think I lost a bit of myself that first night as well, realizing just how strong my feelings were for you. We were friends with benefits, in a way.
What was the benefit? We got to bang, let off some steam, but it tore my soul to shreds knowing that was all it was. Then when it was done, we never spoke about it afterwards, nothing changed. Nothing changed and that hurt so god damn much. I loved you, Reader. And I don't think you loved me. You cared, a lot, yeah, but thats not what I wanted from you.
Saying all that, though, this wasn’t your fault. It really wasnt. I just needed to tell you that, get it off my chest so I dont take it to my grave. You were my everything, as important to me as the air I breathed. Things just got too tough, and when you didnt help, it hurt. I didn’t do this to get back at you or anything like that either, it just kind of happened. I’m sorry I hurt you by doing this, but thats about all I’m sorry for right now.
Do me a favor- quit with the asshole tough guy act. If you get friends as close as me again, dont brush them off. Check up on them, check up on the team, on my parents, anyone who cared. Make sure they’re okay. But also check on yourself. Dont be rash and decide to quit life. I wasn’t your everything and I know it. You know it too, so dont make me your everything now that I’m gone.
Dont forgive and forget me. First of all, you dont need to forgive me. Second, please dont ever forget me. Even if its just as an example of how you should treat others, dont forget me. Please. I have no more words for you, I’ve said all I need to. I loved you, Tsuki. I think I always will. Live on, for me.

Reader shut off his phone light, feeling like someone had taken a chunk of his body and leaving a cold, gaping hole. Staring back down at the letter in his hands, he felt tears run down his cheeks. “Even in death you do this, Writer. I loved you too. So much. I could have never made it up to you then- but let me try to do it now. I’ll live a life you would be proud of, and I hope you’re smiling at me from wherever you are now. Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me love you, and thank you for loving me, even if it only seemed like it from closed doors. I’ll leave the window open for you, though. I love you, now and always. I hope you’re happier now.”
He laid in bed staring unseeingly at the ceiling. As he closed his eyes again, he could have sworn that he heard a whisper back from his last words to Writer. But he had left the window open, after all. Could have been the wind.